AJ, about to make some snide comment, is side-lined by his mockery. Already feeling frustrated with the wait it is taking to see if she can cram the damned vine-meat in her mouth for some sort of sustenance, she throws it on the ground and throws the knife after it. At least it sinks satisfyingly deep into the loam of the jungle floor. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I'd be in there right fucking now but unless you're fucking blind with those dayglow squinters of yours, that thing's on the edge of a fucking canyon and it's just ready to fall right in! This place might be a dark green shit-stain on the back of the cosmos' empty asshole, but I'd rather be sweating out than crushed under billions of tonnes of metal and glass and shit!"

She glared at him for evoking that sense of loss, broadcasting for a moment loud and clear the scent and feel of engine grease off of a half-constructed engine, and the feeling of thwarted nostalgia there. She didn't even realize she was doing it, for after a moment of mantling and huffing, she reached for her knife and the vine again, glaring daggers into her work. The only thing that was stinging right now was her frustration; so far the plant seemed more than fine. She dabbed a bit to the tip of her tongue and then made a disgusted face; it was bitter in the way that old, tough plant matter could be, but with a particularly acerbic tang that suggested something... something almost lemony, without the sweet.